


Rainy Nights

by thewolfmoon



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Dad!Hopper, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-08 13:52:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12865896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewolfmoon/pseuds/thewolfmoon
Summary: The dam in Mike's chest finally breaks.





	Rainy Nights

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to @eddiesbadbreak (on tumblr) for giving me the inspo!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @eddiesghost

It was storming.

This was the first and only thing Mike registered as he ran out of the house. It was storming, and the streets were wet, and that was going to make it difficult to ride his bike on over to El’s. It didn’t help that it was getting dark out, the sun just beginning to sink beneath the line of trees he’d soon have to venture through. None of this mattered though. He had to leave. He had to.

He mounted his bike with shaky legs and took off, squinting against the drops of rain that were already starting to blur his vision. It was a 40-minute ride to the cabin. 20 by car, 40 by bike. He normally caught a ride from Hopper, who’d agreed to pick him up and let him visit at least once every week. But Hopper didn’t know he was coming tonight, so he was going to have to get there on his own. He wasn’t worried though, he knew the way well enough. He’d paid close attention during each drive because he’d figured that there’d eventually be a day when he wouldn’t be able to wait, when he’d have to travel by himself. That day was today.

He tightened his grip on the handlebars and tried to even out his breathing as he rode.

_In through the nose, out through the mouth._

If he focused hard enough on his surroundings, on the way the rain made all the lights from the passing cars blend and bleed together in one bright pool of color, then he didn’t have to think about what was happening back at home. He didn’t have to think about the fact that his mother was probably on her knees, picking up bits and shards of broken of glass. He didn’t have to think about his father, about the fact that he was probably still fuming behind a slammed door. Most importantly though, he didn’t have to think about Holly. About the fact that he’d left her there, alone in that mess, all because he couldn’t handle it.

He ground his teeth against the guilt that was humming through him and pedaled on. Everything would be fine once he was with El. It almost always was.

                                                                                   ______________________________

By the time he arrived at the cabin he was sporting two scraped knees and a banged up wrist. He’d lost control of his bike half a mile back while dodging an oncoming car and had had to walk it the rest of the way. One of the tires was going to need to be replaced, and it was dented in more places than he could count, but he just didn’t have the energy to care. He propped it up against the trunk of a nearby tree and did his best to comb the knots out of his damp hair before stepping onto the porch. He could hear noises inside: the soft, low droll of a TV and the distant clanging of pots and pans.

He raised a fist to the door and tapped out the secret knock, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he waited.

Hopper opened with just about as much trepidation as expected.

“Kid? What the—”

“Look, I know, I know we had a deal and that I’m not supposed to come over unless you know about it first, but, I just— can I please just see her?” Mike wrung his hands. “I won’t stay long, I promise.”

“Christ, how the hell did you even get here?” He pulled Mike inside and shut the door. “It’s armageddon outside.”

“I took my bike.”

“In  _this_  weather? What are you, crazy?”

“Mike?” El stood at the entrance of her room, a wide smile splitting across her face.

Mike’s heart swooped, the way it always did when he saw her. He felt the ball of tension that had been sitting, heavy, at the center of him begin to dissipate as he moved past Hopper and into El’s now open arms. They hugged and he reveled in the closeness, in the way her head fit perfectly along the hollow of his neck and the way her curls brushed, soft and familiar, against the skin of his cheek.

El was the first to pull away, tugging worriedly at the sleeve of his soaked hoodie, “you’re cold.”

Mike shuddered, only just then realizing how true that statement was. “It’s fine, don’t worry.”

“Like hell it is,” Hopper scoffed. He shook his head and moved into the kitchen to fiddle with the stove handles, “you were riding around in the freezing rain for how long? You’ll be lucky if you don’t catch pneumonia.”

El wrinkled her nose, “What’s… pneumonia?”

“It’s a cold,” Hopper said, “a bad one.”

El’s eyes widened.

“I’ll be okay,” Mike interjected, “it’s nothing.”

Hopper shot him an incredulous glance, “take a look at yourself, kid, you’re a mess. I don’t want you getting sick. Do your folks even know you left?”

Mike chewed on his bottom lip and stared down at his muddied up shoes.  _No, they don’t. They don’t know and they don’t care, so what does it matter?_  He shook his head.

“Well then,” Hopper said, walking back to the door and taking his coat down from where it hung on the wall, “that settles that. I’m driving you back.”

“No!” El trailed after Hopper, pleading with him, “let him stay, please. Just for a little. He needs to get warm.”

Hopper sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He looked at El, then back at Mike. His features softened the smallest bit.

“All right, all right. Fine. He can stay, but only for a little while, okay?”

El beamed, “Okay.”

“Thanks,” Mike said, his voice suddenly thick and heavy in his throat, “really.”

Hopper gave him a curt nod and El dragged him by the arm into her room.

“Remember the rule!” Hopper called out.

“I know,” El said, “ _keep the door halfway open._ ”

She did just that before rushing to the large trunk that sat by the foot of her bed. After rifling around inside for a few moments she pulled out a shirt and some sweats.

“Here,” she said, holding them out toward Mike, “they’re dry.”

Mike couldn’t help but smile at that, something light and warm blooming in his chest. He thought of the night they’d met, when he’d first hidden her in the basement and offered her some of his own dry clothes to wear. It’d been raining then too.

He sometimes forgot that it’d only been a year. It may as well have been a decade, considering how far they’ve come.

“Thanks,” Mike said, “but I don’t think they’d really fit me. I’m too tall.”

El’s brows furrowed, “but you’re cold.”

“I’m okay, it’s perfectly warm in here. Besides,” he said, “It’s just my hoodie that’s wet. If I take it off I won’t be cold anymore.” That was a lie, his jeans and t-shirt were both still soaked, but there was no point in concerning El over nothing. He peeled off the hoodie and draped it over a nearby chair before seating himself on El’s bed. She followed.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, El eventually leaning into his side and pulling one of his hands into her own lap to play with. She ran a finger over the hills of his knuckles and followed the pathways of his veins, all the while humming the tune to a song Mike didn’t know. This humming thing was new. El had told him about how she’d started listening to more and more of Hopper’s records lately, and now he was hearing the result. He closed his eyes and let the wave of calm that always came from being in her presence wash over him. This was all he needed, he was sure of it.

The peace was only interrupted when El’s fingers brushed over his bruised wrist. He flinched involuntarily.

“You’re hurt?” El asked, worry already flooding into her face.

“No, I just, fell off my bike. I was in a rush to come here, and the road was wet, and...yeah.”

He pulled his hand back.

“Why did you rush? Did something...happen?”

Mike swallowed. He was hoping he wouldn’t have to get into this, that El would just take his unannounced appearance without question. Some part of him knew it was going to happen anyway though. El was inquisitive by nature, she didn’t like being left in the dark because that’s where she’d been her entire life. Mike wasn’t one to purposefully hide things from her anyway. If it happened it was because it wasn’t something worth mentioning.

He sighed. “I just wanted to get out of the house. My parents were fighting and I didn’t want to stick around to hear the end of it, you know?”

El didn’t look like she did. Her forehead was wrinkled and her eyes were searching Mike’s.

“Fighting?”

“Yeah, arguing. Like yelling...and stuff.”

He picked on a loose thread hanging from El’s blanket and tried to quell his now rapidly-beating heart.

 “Why?”

He opened his mouth, but then let it fall shut. He both knew and didn’t know the answer to that question. He knew what they were fighting about today, that had been explained (yelled out) well enough, but the list of what he didn’t know, didn’t  _understand_ , was endless. He didn’t know how or when it’d all started, the screaming, the slammed doors, the deathly silence. He didn’t know when it was exactly that his father had stopped sleeping in the same room as his mother, choosing instead to spend each night sunken into his recliner. He didn’t know why his mother couldn’t bear to hold a conversation with him anymore, or why she avoided even meeting his gaze at the dinner table. He didn’t know when they stopped loving each other, why they stopped. He didn’t know, he didn’t know, he didn’t know.

Mike balled and unballed his fists, tried to suppress the tremors that were beginning to run through him. It was suddenly colder than it’d been before.

 “Um,” he started, clearing his throat, “uh, my mom, she did something...bad.”

El reached for his hand and held it in her own. Mike didn’t look at her, he couldn’t. He was afraid of the next question. How could he explain something he didn’t even really understand himself? He took a breath and found that his chest was becoming tight all over again.

“Mike?” El touched his cheek and tried to get him to look at her. He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. “Mike? What’s wrong?”

He tried to shape the word ‘nothing’, but it just wouldn’t come out. It was a lie anyway. Everything was wrong, all of it. He couldn’t even go to sleep at night without feeling like his entire world was crumbling around him. He worried that, with time, there’d eventually be nothing left. It was this anxiety, this fear, that sent his stomach twisting in knots.

The worst of it was that he knew things weren’t even really that bad. After all, the people he loved were alive and safe. The gate was closed and they weren’t battling tooth and nail against Demodogs anymore. He should’ve been happy, grateful. So why wasn’t he?

He vaguely registered El pulling his face upward, toward her own. He opened his eyes and caught the alarm that was written all over her features. He was scaring her. That was the last thing he wanted.

“You’re crying,” she said, swiping her thumb across a spot right beneath his eye.

Was he? He hadn’t even realized. He scrubbed his face with his hands and breathed in sharply through his nose. “I’m fine,” he croaked.

“No,” El said, shaking her head, “you’re not.”

Mike felt his last wisp of control slip and fade. This was it. He couldn’t hold it back anymore, he just couldn’t. The first sob that ripped through him was loud enough to make El jump. He hid his face in his hands as his shoulders shook and trembled with the force. It’d been a while since he’d cried this hard and he’d forgotten how terrible it felt, how utterly all-consuming and violent it could be.

El crawled behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head in the space between his shoulder blades. “I’m sorry,” she spoke the words into his shirt, “I’m sorry, please don’t cry.”

_I’m the one that should be sorry_ , he thought, hiccupping for breath,  _you’re not supposed to see me like this, it’s pathetic. I shouldn’t have come, I shouldn’t have come, I shouldn’t have—_

His thoughts were interrupted by Hopper’s entrance, “What’s going on? What happened?”

Mike looked up and watched Hopper’s eyes scan the room before landing on him. An unreadable expression slid onto his face.

El jumped off the bed immediately, running to his side. “Help,” she said, tugging on his sleeve, “I don’t know what to do.”

Mike tried to pull himself together, but it was to no avail. He felt the first tendrils of panic begin to edge on him, now that he’d started crying he was afraid he’d never stop. He wrapped his arms around himself and clamped his mouth shut, hoping that he’d at least be able to stifle the noises he’d been making.

Hopper put a hand on El’s shoulder, “Hey, why don’t you give me and Mike a minute alone, okay?”

“I can’t leave him,” she said, adamant.

“It’ll only be for a moment. I need to talk to him, all right?”

El shot him a dubious look, but nodded nonetheless. She left and Hooper shut the door.

“I’m sorry,” Mike sputtered, “I didn’t mean to—I, I’m just gonna go.” He rubbed furiously at his eyes with the back of his hand and stood up to leave. Hopper caught him by the shoulder and pushed him, gently, back down.

“Nuh-uh, I don’t want to hear any of that, kid.”

He sat down next to Mike and Mike, in turn, looked away. He didn’t want Hopper seeing him like this. It’d happened once already, how could he let it happen again?

 But hopper wasn’t giving up.

“It’s okay to let it out,” he said, “there’s nothin’ wrong about that.”

Mike fisted his hands in his jeans and stayed quiet.

Hopper sighed. “We can talk about it if you want,” he said, “or I can just sit here for as long as you need me to. It’s up to you.”

Mike took a breath. “My mom,” he said, “she um, she cheated, on my dad.”

The last half of the sentence had come out no louder than a whisper, but still, there they were; the words he’d been holding in his mouth since the moment he’d run out of the house. 

Saying it out loud made it real, in a terrifying, dizzying, sort of way. But Mike kept on anyway. It  _had_  to be said, he realized. He didn’t trust what would happen if he let sit inside him any longer.

“We were at the table and, my parents, they just started fighting out of nowhere, over  _nothing_. I didn’t think it was anything that bad, because—because they do it  _all the time_  now. But this was different. My dad just got so angry and he…he brought up the cheating. I didn’t even know about it, I had no idea.”

Mike thought about the way his father had knocked his glass off the table during the argument, the way it’d exploded on the ground upon impact, hundreds of bits and shards scattering across the floor like dust. He’d never seen him so mad, so entirely enraged.

_Oh, don’t play innocent Karen_ , he’d said,  _not after what you did._

“She’s been seeing some guy from around town for three weeks now.” Mike’s voice broke. “She hid it from us, she lied.”

Hopper placed a hand a hand on his back and held it there. “Kid—”

“I just, I don’t know what’s going to happen, and I’m scared, I’m always so afraid.” Mike rubbed his injured wrist and focused on the spike of pain that ran up his arm, letting it ground him. “I left because I didn’t want to hear about it anymore. I couldn’t. But—but I left Holly there, alone with them. She was crying and I just  _left her_. What kind of older brother does that?” He ran a hand over his face. His cheeks were wet, once again.

“Hey,” Hopper said, his voice gruff, “don’t you blame yourself for that. You’re still just a kid, you can’t do everything. You’re allowed to take a break. You’re allowed to say I can’t. You know that right?”

Mike felt something break inside him. “I just don’t want to be alone. I don’t think I can keep doing it by myself. I don’t—I—”

Hopper pulled him into his arms and Mike squeezed his eyes shut, letting himself be held.

“You don’t have to,” Hopper said, “You’ve got El, and your friends, and you’ve got me. All right?”

Mike nodded into his chest. He didn’t have the words to respond, but he also knew he didn’t need them.

They stayed like that for a moment before Hopper pulled back, eyeing him warily. “Shit kid, you’re still freezing.” He got up and headed for the door. “I’ve got some stuff that you can change into for the night. You’re not getting sick on my watch.”

“Tonight?”

Hopper rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. You can stay tonight. If you want. I’ll call your parents, let them know where you are, and then drive you back in the morning. It’s no problem.”

“Oh,” Mike said, his chest suddenly flooding with warmth, “thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Hopper opened the door but turned back once more, “Also, I’ve got some food on the stove, if you’re, uh, hungry. I know you probably didn’t get to eat your dinner, so... you can eat with us.”

“I’d like that.”

Hopper gave him a small smile and left the room. El immediately took his place.

“Mike,” she said, running to the bed and filling her spot next to him once again, “you’re...okay?”

Mike took her hand, laced his fingers with hers. “Yeah,” he said, “I think i’m gonna be.”


End file.
